I Might Just Have To
by Emii
Summary: If Rippner can't get Lisa off his mind, what choice does he have? WARNING: Violence in later chapters may be upsetting to some readers.
1. Chapter 1

The train pulled away from the station and Jackson checked the area around himself before leaving the platform and heading for his bus. A nightclub thumped somewhere behind the buildings and the dark sky seemed slightly grey from the city's light pollution. There were few shadows out in the road, but he tried to keep his guard up nevertheless. Checking his wristwatch, he noted that he had a few minutes before the 3:15am bus left for his side of town. His train had originally been late, so the driver must have overshot trying to make up for lost time – something that could easily be done in the early hours. Even so, Jackson hated having to wait for his bus.

He leaned casually against the shelter, flipping the collar of his jacket up against the early morning chill, and considered doing up the top button of his shirt. He eventually decided against it. A young nurse eyed him warily from the cracked plastic seats and he flashed her a smile and a nod before turning himself away from her in what he knew was a non-threatening manner. The last thing he wanted was to stick out in anyone's mind.

He stifled a yawn; after a sixteen-hour day he could feel how late it was. One of the streetlamps flickered overhead and he glanced up and down the road with grey-ringed eyes.

He hated night finishes.

A gentle hum and hiss drew his attention back to the road and his bus turned the corner, stopping by the shelter. He flashed the driver a pass with his local name on it and slid into an old-gum spattered seat close to the front of the coach. The fabric on the seats was fraying, the floor of the bus was sticky, but he was nearly home. A young, drunken fellow was lounging in the seats opposite him and giving him a long, hard stare.

"Hey, hey bud." The boy swayed into more of a sitting position and blinked blearily. "Ch…change? Spare change? S'warm onna bus…"

Jackson shook his head and stared out of the window. "Sorry, my friend. All out."

Suddenly the foul stench of stale beer and oil hit him and he turned back to find the boy sitting beside him, his face almost touching Jackson's own. He noted that the kid's clothes were, in fact, shredded and filthy.

"You gotta have something," the boy slurred, grasping for a lapel. "You dressed all smart like, you gotta… it's your duty…"

Jackson fixed his cool blue eyes on the kid's and pushed him away with the back of his arm. His unwanted companion looked a bit surprised at the retaliation, but tried to lean in again. Jackson exhaled sharply in annoyance, slipped a hand up to the boy's shoulder and pinched a nerve, holding him as he spoke quietly and pleasantly into his ear.

"Kyle, I'd really hate to have to leave you on the sidewalk for The Man to find but you got to pick your targets more carefully. I never did like his petty street kids and I certainly have no time for you. Fortunately, I don't think he does either so what's one kid missing to him, huh?"

Kyle blinked again, focusing on Jackson's face and his eyes widened in horror as he realised which Manager he was sitting next to.

"Hey, hey… I'm sorry, right?"

Jackson let go of the kid, who scrambled back across to his previous seat, looking a little bit worse for wear. Once he was sure no one was looking, Jackson snuck a hand up to his throat and massaged below his Adam's apple. Trying to speak in a low voice always left his vocal chords feeling raw and gravely. He'd need a lozenge when he got home. Leaving Kyle balled up on the coach, he pressed the bell for his stop, thanked the oblivious driver courteously and stepped off the bus. As it pulled away with a hiss, he gave Kyle a tiny mock salute and started the four-minute walk to his home. It amused him that the small-time Managers of the city still let their boys pick bad targets for their petty crimes, but it was becoming an irritation.

The heels of his shoes clicked gently on the sidewalk, and he found that most of the main roads were deserted. His jobs almost always ended this way – someone was removed, something changed hands (usually cash), he hopped on the next flight, train, bus – whatever it took to get home – and he walked into an empty house. On this note, he stopped in front of an unimpressive annex on a row of terraced houses. A light was left on, as always, and he sighed inwardly before checking his surroundings. Finally, he pulled out the keys for multiple locks and entered his home, flicking the lounge light on as he went.

Yep, an empty house.

He locked the front door again, and paused, letting his forehead rest against the cold wood. The clearest thought he'd had all night ran through his mind.

_Lisa, I might have to steal you. I'm pretty sure it's personal now._


	2. Chapter 2

The terraced houses on his street blocked most of the sunlight, so Jackson was shaving in a mix of artificial and secondary light. The pure-white bathroom helped, and he'd never nicked his skin yet, so he considered that a plus. Washing his face, Jackson considered his thoughts from before now that he had slept on them. It was probably just a weird, passing thought. Everyone had them, now and then.

Jackson paused, water dripping off his chin. He watched it run in cloudy rivulets down the sides of the sink. The more he thought about Lisa, the less odd it seemed.

_I might have to steal you._

A brief memory of the plane filled his mind, and how he had wanted to kick himself for uttering those words to her. He remembered the soft powdered scent of her skin from the restroom. This was followed by a vivid image of an angry scar on pale skin.

_Did someone do that to you?_

He clenched his jaw and towelled his face vigorously. Damn it to hell, he'd had it bad before he even realised it. Dragging the fabric under his chin, he slowed and eventually dropped the towel into the sink as he studied his neck. Tipping his head back, he ran his fingers over the uneven edges of the scar, which was all he had to show for the longest job he'd taken on. Reversed in the mirror, it looked like a curved 'L'. Feeling a tingling in his other hand, he realised he had been gripping the edge of the basin white-knuckled fashion, and that his breathing was once again raspy and shallow.

She had definitely made her mark on him, whether he liked it or not. He needed to clear his head. He needed to go for a drive.


	3. Chapter 3

The drives were becoming more frequent. It started once every now and then, and soon he found himself driving past her house once a fortnight. Now he was taking the battered Ford past her house every few days – he knew it was risky, but it satisfied something in him. Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of her in a window, and he would take a strange feeling home with him. He didn't understand it, but it would see him through the night.

Tonight he pulled over across the road from Lisa's home. The lounge light was on and she was curled up on a squashy-looking sofa with a book. Jackson smiled, seeing the plate of scrambled eggs balanced on her lap and checked the digital clock on his dashboard… 3:02am.

She moved her arm suddenly and her face turned towards the window. Jackson sat up, suspecting that she had seen the car, but instead she reached for a tall tumbler on the table between the sofa and the window. He felt a surge of fury and his nose touched the cold glass as he leant back in, sending a clammy shock through him.

A Sea Breeze. A Fucking Sea Breeze.

She lied to him – she beat the shit out of him and shot him. She'd meant to kill him.

In his mind's eye, Jackson saw the airplane restroom again. His hand was clamped around Lisa's jaw and he had her pinned against the sink. This time, she cried and he backhanded her. He imagined her falling to her knees, and her hair gripped in his fist…

A 4x4 growled past and its headlights forced him out of his fantasy. He froze, blinking away the orange stains on his vision – eventually it dawned on him that his trousers were uncomfortably tight. He drew a few deep breaths and glanced back at Lisa's window. She was gone and the light was off.

Jackson wrenched at the ignition and ran every red light until he was home. Once back inside his house, he felt somewhat more composed. He let the television drown out some of his thoughts and he poured himself a large whiskey and coke. He downed it without thinking and poured another, and had only taken a sip when the sound of his cell trilled from the other room. He set his glass down and answered it reluctantly.

"Rippner. You're pushing the boundaries."

Jackson let his lip curl at the sound of his employer's voice. They hadn't seen eye-to-eye since the failed Lux Atlantic job. In fact, he'd been lucky he'd been given any chance at all once the company had cleaned up. Silently, he counted his track record as a blessing.

"Boundaries?" He couldn't quite hide the contempt in his voice, and realised he was slurring slightly. He probably should have eaten more in the day.

"Boundaries, Rippner. The drives, the late nights, the drinking… it's not good enough. Sort it out before you slip up."

An advert for some kind of cake was spinning on the TV screen, a flurry of bright colours and smiling mothers. Jackson pounded the remote with his thumb, turning the volume down low before changing over to a news channel.

"And how to you propose I do that?" He asked.

"Make it all or nothing, Rippner, and don't get the rest of us involved. If you screw up, make yourself disappear."

The line clicked and his phone beeped to show the end of the connection. Jackson tossed it onto a soft chair and retrieved his drink. Taking large gulps, he walked the length of his open-plan home, which seemed all the emptier as his footsteps echoed on the panelled flooring.

He drained the dregs from the beaker and dropped it into the sink, ignoring the chime of broken glass on stainless steel.

_All or nothing. _


	4. Chapter 4

Lisa took a deep breath as she stepped out of the doors of the Lux Atlantic, letting the evening sun bathe her face. It felt disarmingly good to be outside after the long shifts, but as always, she felt that her work wasn't over until she was safely inside her car. She scanned the staff lot, trying to remember if her parking space was in fact in the first row, or whether she was remembering yesterday's space. She never had cared for a named space of her own – her car was almost permanently parked there anyway.

"Lisa Lisa Lisa!"

A panicked voice hit her before Cynthia did, who had stumbled off her heels in her attempt to catch up with her boss. The redhead looked horrified at nearly bowling Lisa over.

"Ohmigod, I am so sorry… Lisa, I'm really…"

"Cynthia, it's fine – what do you need?" Lisa chuckled inwardly – she found it difficult to find her Reception Manager's paranoid energy anything less than amusing. Cynthia tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ears and smiled impishly.

"Not me, you! You're going nowhere without your keys, silly!" She pressed a small bunch of keys into Lisa's hand and tottered back into the hotel. "See you tomorrow, Lisa!"

She waved at her through the revolving doors and turned away. Spotting her dark green Peugeot in the far corner, she clipped a neat path across the tarmac, hit the central locking and slid into the driver's seat. The inside of the car was pleasantly warm thanks to the sunlight, and she leant back against the leather seats with a contented sigh. A year ago she found out how bad things could get, so now she promised herself that she would never stress out over her work.

_That I would never let it happen again._

She turned the keys in the ignition.

"Hi, Leese." A set of fingers gave her elbow a firm squeeze from the back seat. With a yelp, she catapulted herself forwards and clutched for her handbag. It was no longer on the passenger seat. Jackson grasped the top of her arms, guided her back against the headrest and held her there, running his fingers through the ends of her hair.

"Shhhh," he half-smiled at her in the rear-view mirror. "You're going away for a while."

"You're back to finish the job?" Lisa's voice quavered regardless of her mocking tone. Jackson's smile faded and he became the cold Manager that she remembered, though his voice rasped slightly as he lowered it.

"Let's call it a little personal business. I have your purse, your pager, your cell and your house keys. The last three are staying here." He snaked his left hand down the side of her seat and hit the button for the back windows. She heard a clatter and the ring of metal on stone as the items left the car, and there was another hum as the window closed again. "I also have some of your personal belongings from home – things you'll need. Now: you drive, and I'll give the directions."

He paused, throat raw, and Lisa slowly let out the breath she had been holding. He saw her eyes darting across the spaces and the sidewalk, but unluckily for her the area was deserted save for the odd passing car. She glanced in the mirror again and saw Jackson fumbling in his pocket. Taking advantage of this, she slid her hand along the door's armrest to the handle…

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Jackson stared hard at her from the mirror. He brought a cell phone she didn't recognise up to face level and gave it a wave. "Make a run for it, and I make the call. I don't think I need to explain to you who is stroking Cynthia's ego in the hotel bar right now-"

"Cynthia is working – it's not worth her job to be drinking on her shift." Lisa stated. Jackson pursed his lips and shook his head.

"No, I'm pretty sure she got off fifteen minutes after you. In fact, she was more than willing to meet my Dog after work today, after their little chat at the desk last night."

She went cold, remembering the dark-haired gent who had sent Cynthia weak and giggling on her break the night before. She had been so taken with the guy she'd actually relaxed… and Lisa had encouraged her to finish an hour earlier tonight so they could meet again. She felt sick.

"So don't get cute." Jackson's voice finally faltered and he coughed. Biting the inside of her cheek, Lisa gave the car some gas and rolled out of the parking lot, painfully aware of Jackson's hands resting on her shoulders. As they passed the bay window of the bar, Cynthia was sitting away from the view, deep in conversation with a sharply suited man.


	5. Chapter 5

"Here. Pull over."

Lisa turned the steering wheel feverishly, her mind racing, and the car slowed to a halt in an empty bus station. The wall lights were off, which didn't help now that the sky was a light navy colour. The station wasn't one she recognised – they were on the side of town Lisa avoided. In fact, they had driven for so long she wasn't even sure she was still in her own town.

She felt a hand lift from one of her shoulders and she automatically checked the rear-view mirror. The unmistakeable flash of a blade made her flinch and she bit her cheek again, looking away. Things were going right back to the way they had been after the flight – cells, calls, knives…

"Listen carefully, Leese. We're going for a walk, and your car is staying here. You'll stick by me, we'll catch a bus or two, and…" He paused, letting his calm tone sink in. Lisa turned around slowly to avoid putting her life in any more danger. She looked him in the eye.

"And what?"

"And if you scream, try to run or attract any unwanted attention, when they find you you'll be nothing more than a Jane Doe to them, and Cynthia will be…"

"…Buried in a closed casket." Lisa cut him off, seeing red. Despite the horrific images this had created, she felt anger well up and an overwhelming sense of protection towards Cynthia. He must have followed her for weeks – he knew Cynthia was practically family to her now. "You're pathetic," she spat, but Jackson only raised his eyebrows faintly in return.

She had actually bared her teeth at him… Jackson breathed deeply through his nose, knowing that on the outside he looked as if he was finding her insufferable. To bring the point home he gave her a steely glare, grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her to face the dash again. He thrust out his other hand and she turned her head slightly.

"The keys."

She passed them back to him with no complaint, considering her options. He pushed the door open, sheathed the knife in one slick movement as he unfolded from the back seat, and opened the door for her. To her disgust, he offered her an arm, which she ignored. Unwilling to settle for this, he slammed the door, caught her hand in his and tucked an arm firmly around it. The muffled sound of the door echoed dully off the walls, reminding them how alone they were.

"Just play the game, Leese." He patted her hand, tossed the car keys over his shoulder and guided her onto the street, leaving the Peugeot looking lost and forlorn in the station.

They walked for several minutes, and caught a bus just as the last shreds of light fell from the sky. Lisa strained to come up with a solution but found nothing. In fact, her mind was blank save for the overpowering effect Jackson was having on her senses; all she could smell was the slight acidity of whatever cologne or deodorant he was wearing. All she could hear was the rustle of his suit, and her heart pounded when she tried to slip her hand out from under his arm only for him to grasp it with his other hand.

Jackson dug in his jacket pocket briefly and pulled out a cell. She eyed it distrustfully, before a moment of clarity stuck her.

"Who're you messaging, honey?" She leaned in. Jackson faltered, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, but started tapping at the keys again.

"No-one."

Lisa thought quickly. "Honey, we've been through this – you promised you wouldn't call her again."

The few other passengers on the bus started to look up. A middle-aged woman shook her head pityingly at her. Jackson gave a fleeting look around the bus, and flipped the cell shut again. Lisa decided that this was her moment.

"You said you wouldn't contact her!" She raised her voice and jumped up, snatching the phone from his hands. "I'm sick of you, you lying shit – I'll get myself home, and I'm calling _her_. Let me off."

The driver, who looked very uncomfortable, pulled over and Jackson staggered after her. Feeling panicked, Lisa yelled at him to get away from her, hopped onto the tarmac, and started to walk. Jackson saw the driver reach for his radio, and he flung himself into the doorway of the bus.

"Sweetie, wait." His voice was suddenly oily and soft. Lisa allowed herself to look over her shoulder, and froze.

He waved the second cell phone at her and winked. "I'll call Cynthia – I'll show her it's over, ok? I can end it," He wet his lips cautiously. "Right now."

The world span and Lisa found herself clutching for the nearby streetlamp. Jackson stepped off the bus, assuring the driver that they would be fine, and helped her gently to her feet. The bus pulled away and he watched it turn up a different street before facing Lisa again.

"Leese?"

When she looked up, he caught her on the cheek with the back of his hand, and gripped her tightly to him when she stumbled. Eventually he clamped his fingers around her jaw again and held her nose to nose.

"Stupid female emotion-driven idiocy," he snarled, and she uttered a tiny squeak. "From now on there are no more warnings. It's up to you to see how things pan out."

He dug his fingernails through her thin jacket and hailed the next taxi to pass, knowing there would be marks on her the next morning. Urging her into the back seat, he seemingly adjusted his belt before sliding in beside her. Jackson kept an arm around her all the way home, and only he and Lisa knew about the blade resting against her waist.


	6. Chapter 6

Lisa whipped her head around on the dark street, watching the taxi's rear lights disappear into the distance. Most of the streetlamps were broken or dying, and strange shadows were cast along the floor and up buildings. Jackson was looking away from the road, and half of his face was indiscernible in the darkness. The street looked fairly normal and neat, but the lack of people unnerved her and the temperature had dropped considerably since they had got into the cab. He dug his fingers into her arm again and she twitched, biting her lip. He breathed deeply again.

"So what's your plan, _Jack?_" She taunted him quietly. He shifted his hand slightly higher up her arm and nicked a nerve with his fingernails. She gasped and dropped her shoulder, and so he slid his other arm around her waist and urged her forwards.

"I don't have one, yet." It sounded more like a statement than like he was admitting something. "But I wouldn't worry your pretty little head over that, now, Leese."

Lisa found herself inside a long wooden gate, which was connected to an annex by a tarmac driveway. The annex looked like a modern wooden cottage and was obviously single-floor. A light glowed somewhere in it's depths, but the blinds in the windows were mostly closed, and it was difficult to tell what was inside. She felt her body go cold and her palms became sticky as her mind started to go into overdrive, imagining men waiting around a table in the half-light. She saw Jackson's boss waiting to finish what he couldn't, and locked rooms, and all the neighbours who wouldn't hear her screams…

Jackson pushed her gently in the small of her back, and she realised she had rooted herself to the ground. She looked around at him, feeling baffled and uncoordinated.

"What are you waiting for?" Jackson tipped his head back a little and let his mouth fall open in mock understanding. "Oh, I see… your emotions are getting the better of you, and now you're trying to analyse the situation so you can find some way out."

Lisa grit her teeth and looked away, wanting to kick him in his chauvinistic assumptions. Jackson dipped his face towards her, his eyes darting through the shadows, sifting for threats.

"Well, suck it up and deal with your emotions once we're inside, Leese. It's fucking freezing out here."

He gave her a shove and she stumbled against the doorframe. He turned her face towards him with one hand and gave her a brief, meaningful look.

"Don't try anything. There's nothing in my way this time."

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small bunch of keys, not unlike her own. He picked a large, old-fashioned bronze one and unlocked what she saw was the lowest of several. When he was halfway through the locks she glanced behind her and he paused.

"You see something?"

"No." She whispered.

"Good. Stay with me, Leese."

He clacked the last two locks open and the door swung inwards. He held the door open for her and gave her a cocky smile. Lisa wrinkled her nose at him and turned her face away, then strode defiantly into the house.

If this was the end, she was going to be the one to end it.


	7. Chapter 7

After the dim light outside, the artificial bulb in the lounge made Lisa squint, and she blinked a few times to clear the visual cobwebs while Jackson busied himself with the locks inside the door. She furrowed her brow, staring around the room. There were a couple of soft chairs and sofas in the wide space, a coffee table and a wide-screen television. Everything was decked out in a light coloured wood and cold colours. She turned to Jackson in confusion, who was fiddling with something by the windows. He slipped a small key into its lock, turned it, and the electronic blinds closed fully.

"…What?" He asked, seeing her staring.

"I don't understand." She faltered. Jackson strode past her into the next room, and she realised that all the areas were walkthrough. He came back with two glasses and slid a panel back beside the TV, revealing bottles of many shapes, sizes and colours.

He held a glass out with a triumphant grin. "Drink?"

She shook her head.

"Suit yourself." He cleared his throat and poured his usual. Then, to add to her uncertainty, Jackson sat on the nearest sofa and took a long drink. "Make yourself comfortable – you're going to be here for a while."

Lisa ignored the teasing element and tried for an answer. "Why? Why am I here?"

Jackson swallowed. "There's a job coming up that you could be useful for." He turned his eyes away from her and shifted slightly. Picking up the remote, he pointed it at the set and it blared into life – an image of some city filled the screen before cutting to a stern looking newsreader. Ignoring the TV, Lisa gave him a long cold look, then marched over and hit the power button.

"You're lying to me." Her voice seemed loud in the silence. Jackson didn't meet her gaze but stared at the blank screen, a muscle jumping in his cheek again.

"I don't lie," he rasped softly. There was a brief pause before he set his dead, blue eyes on hers, and a shiver ran through her. "It doesn't serve me."

He set his drink down by his feet with a clap of glass on wood, raised himself out of the seat and pushed past her. She turned with him and watched him disappear around the corner. A rustle and a slam, and a strange stillness followed his exit – she remained standing, waiting for him to return. Several minutes later, she was still standing alone.

oOo

The icy water bit Jackson's skin and he felt the droplets run inside his collar. He flicked most of the water out of his hair as he rearranged it with one hand, dabbing his face dry with the other.

"Shit," he breathed. He couldn't lie to her, not convincingly.

He dropped the towel, leant on the sink and pressed his forehead against the mirror. He stayed there, eyes closed and listening to the trickling of the tap until a cold, wet weight hit his shoes.

"Shit!"

He wrenched the tap off furiously, realising he'd dropped his towel in the sink and blocked the plughole. He dragged the towel from the bottom of the sink and threw it in the bathtub, adding more water to the puddle around his feet. A large vibrating thud came from the next room and he glanced up briefly, but decided that he had nothing to worry about – all the doors and windows were locked.

Using every curse he knew, Jackson dragged an armful of towels out of the cupboard and threw them on the floor.

oOo

Slipping off her shoes, Lisa took the opportunity to explore. Taking another look around, she noticed that the place seemed smaller on the inside than outside. She approached the windows and tried to split the blinds, but they were solid. Her mind raced as she slid her hands along the slats. Lisa reached the edge of the window and found the small key still in the lock, and she tried turning it one way, then the other. With a low hum, the blinds twisted open, then folded up towards the ceiling, and she pressed her face against the glass to see outside. She could see the wall of the next terrace of houses, and the edge of the sidewalk. A single streetlight illuminated some of the features. Not many, but this was helped by the occasional passing of a car…

Cars! She turned away from the window and scanned all the objects she thought she could lift. The glass would be too light, and Jackson didn't have any ornaments or smaller chairs. Padding quietly through the walkway, she found a white-tiled kitchen, and was disappointed to see that the stools by the table were screwed to the floor. However, a wooden utensil-holder caught her eye and she lunged for it, tipping out the various wooden spoons, strainers and tongs as quietly as she could. Lisa jogged back into the lounge, swung the holder in a wide arc and crashed it into the window closest to the door.

There was a dull thud and the bulletproof glass shuddered. Lisa's wrist emitted a tiny crack. She dropped the holder and cradled her aching arm, panic setting in as she heard movement from the other side of the annex.

_We seem to have attracted a little unwanted attention._

Heart pounding, she picked up the holder again and waited for Jackson to appear.


	8. Chapter 8

The ringing of the cell phone made Lisa jump and she dropped the wooden holder with a hollow bang. A tiny light flashed between the cushions on the sofa and the ringing got louder. Surely the noise would bring Jackson back? Without thinking, she ran to the sofa and rummaged in the gap for it, and hit the answer button. A deep, male voice issued from the other end.

"Rippner?"

She paused, unsure of herself. Who was he? Lisa's conscience screamed at her to hang up before she made matters worse, but she needed to get out of this place…

"Rippner? You there?"

"Help me," she whispered, panic getting the better of her. "He's holding me hostage, and I think he's going to kill me-"

She cut herself off, realising the stupidity of her own actions. There was another pause, and Lisa glanced over her shoulder to see Jackson leaning in the walkway, one hand on either side of the frame and a calm expression on his face. She froze, nearly dropping the cell, and the male voice spoke again.

"Ma'am, I'd be grateful if you could pass me over to Mr Rippner. Thank you."

Deflated, she held it out to Jackson, who took it from her. He turned sideways, leaned back against the frame and put the phone to his ear. To her surprise, Lisa could see the contempt within him.

"Boss? Yeah… Yeah. No, not tonight. Uh huh… Yeah. Done deal." He flipped the phone shut, pocketed it and stared at a spot just above the floor. Lisa took a step backwards.

"You could have killed us both, you know." He paused.

She started to take another hesitant step away from him. Suddenly, he launched himself at her, grabbing her by the neck and shoulder. They turned neatly on the polished floor and Lisa found herself slammed against the drinks cabinet. The bottles inside chimed and rattled as she attempted to fend him off.

"Stop that," he barked, fury etched into his face as he beat her hands away. Finally, he grabbed one of her wrists and she gasped in pain. He used his other hand to hold her face towards his, and pressed her against the wall with his torso. Bile straining his voice, he spoke each word clearly and slowly. "You need to learn _not_ to mess with things you _don't_ understand."

Lisa strained to turn her face away, but in a rage Jackson was too much for her.

"You could have got us both killed," he repeated. "Does that mean _anything_ to you?"

"You're going to finish the job anyway, _Jack_," she mumbled through his vice-like fingers. "What else is there now?"

Some of the fury left his face, and she thought he was going to let go of her, but Jackson seemed to have lost the ability to move. Slowly, he moved his hand from her face to her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut.

This was it. He was going to tie up the one loose end in his job.

Jackson relaxed his grip and slid his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. He followed her face with his own as she turned it away, and gently rested his lips on hers. He felt her sharp intake of breath and the flutter of her eyelashes on his cheek, and he deepened the kiss before she pulled away. Holding her by the shoulders, he gave her a small shake before backing away.

The silence was stifling, and he was glad when it was eventually broken by a truck downshifting out on the road. He gave her an unsure look before his expression returned to its usual cold, dead state, and he turned to leave. Once he was gone, Lisa slid shakily down the wall, feeling more battered than ever before at the hands of Jackson Rippner.


	9. Chapter 9

"Who's Lisa?" The skinny redhead pushed her feet into her shoes and sat back in the chair. Jackson ignored her, pulling his jacket on and straightening his hair in the mirror. Catching a decent glimpse of her now that the main light was on, he decided that she actually looked very little like the woman in his house. She wasn't unattractive – just underfed and, quite frankly, not someone he wanted to see again. His throat tightened sickeningly and he looked back at his own reflection, trying not to pay the girl too much attention. She got up and tottered behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, almost in an attempt to comfort him.

"Who's this 'Lisa', then, Sweetie?"

Jackson stood up swiftly, nearly knocking her over. "I don't pay you to get answers."

"Fine, whatever." She popped a tablet of gum in her mouth and started to chew it loudly. Jackson felt his patience wavering as she picked up her purse. "Speaking of payment, that'll be another fifty for the other stuff."

He looked over her bare skin where red marks were already starting to come up. Switching to people-pleaser mode, he gave her a wink and winning smile. He needed to get away from her and the sweat-tinged room.

"Sure, keep the change." He handed her double what she had asked and left quickly. Once outside the hotel he shivered and walked around the block twice, almost as if he could cleanse himself with the night air. Eventually he headed back to his stop, just in time to catch the last bus before midnight. The bus shook horribly with each gearshift and he turned up the collar of his jacket, feeling nauseous – he was glad when the journey was over.

The stop was a street or two away from home, so he began the usually pleasant walk back. Tonight, he felt rotten from the inside – his attempt to take control hadn't worked, and as a result Lisa had been alone in his house for nearly twenty-four hours. It was a risky business. He was just glad that the only cell that made outgoing calls was currently in his pocket.

The face of the escort pressed its way to the front of his mind and he grimaced – it hadn't worked. The stupid girl had begged for more… that wasn't how it was supposed to go. He felt her tongue on his neck again and lurched towards some garbage cans a few feet ahead of him. Thankful that it was late and he was alone, he heaved until his eyes watered and he felt satisfyingly empty inside.

I hadn't worked. His employer had been right: All or nothing.

oOo

"Leeese…" He called softly, the door secure behind him. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. He tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa and walked through his house, scanning each room. She was nowhere to be seen, and he felt a wave of something go through him as he held back a smile: she was hiding.

Deciding that she was doing a pretty good job of it, but that she would have to come out at some point, he switched on the TV at a low volume and poured his usual drink. He ran a mouthful around his mouth to wash away the acrid taste of vomit, and then finished the glass. After some thought, he pulled the bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet and kept it and the coke next to him. He felt oddly content, and realised that he could smell the faint scent of her perfume; immediately he felt a lot better. Settling down, he flicked between channels; watched a bit of news here and there, got sucked into the odd sitcom and allowed himself to sit through some music videos. Finally, he got up to go to the bathroom and realised that the minutes had slid into hours, and the floor wasn't so steady any more.

He picked his way carefully to the lavatory, did what he needed to and washed his hands, enjoying the cold water running between his fingers. He focused on his image in the mirror and gave himself a tired smile.

There was a small sound from the kitchen area of the house, and he pricked his ears up, remembering where he thought she might be hiding. Memories of the way he'd pursued her across most of Miami nudged through the fogginess and he inhaled, wondering if he was feeling more provoked by the alcohol. Sobering up slightly, he slid the bathroom door open and used the kitchen table to help him move more quietly towards the cupboards.

The one to the left of the sink was the tiniest bit ajar, propped open by a can of something. He knew his cupboard wasn't that full. Jackson reached out and swung the door open.

"Hi, Leese."

A can flew out and hit him in the kneecap. He dropped onto the tiles with a grunt and saw Lisa staring, wide-eyed, from the tiny space. She was armed with another can.

"Smart thinking, Leese." He growled, and shielded himself with both arms as the tin sailed over his head. Pouncing forwards, he grabbed her by both arms before she could pick another up, and dragged her into the open. She kicked and screamed, making him overbalance and land on his back, dragging her across him. Lisa felt dizzy as she smelt the whiskey on his breath and pounded his chest as she pushed herself off. He coughed wheezily, the wind knocked out of him.

"Get away from me!" She kicked out and caught him in the thigh as he rolled over, and he grunted again as his leg went half-dead. Half crawling, he caught her ankle as she tried to stand, and grabbed her around the waist. Staggering to his feet, he was astounded to find that he was sober enough to lift her and he half carried, half dragged her out of the kitchen.

"No!" Lisa screamed and kicked, so he let her put her weight on her feet and turned her so that her back was against the wall.

"Lisa, shhhhh…" He soothed, before giving her a sharp jerk away from him. Her head struck the blue-painted wall, and she felt herself gently drift off. He looked longingly at her serene expression and scooped an arm under the crook of her knees.

"All or nothing," he whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

The cool blue ceiling was swimming gently when Lisa opened her eyes, and she wondered lazily where she was. She thought the light in the room was coming from a lamp somewhere, but her head was throbbing a little too much for her to turn it and see. Wherever she was, the bed was soft, and warm…

Someone ran their fingers through her hair and a low, grinding voice snapped her back to reality.

"Welcome back, Leese." Jackson was leaning over her, his fingers entangled and a small, mocking smile playing the edges of his mouth. She gaped and tried to wriggle out of the bed, but he threw an arm over her and pulled her closer to him. Wrapping an arm under hers, curling close and resting his chin on her shoulder, he held her fast. The smell of whiskey hung closely to him, and she suspected that he had had another drink while she was out.

"Don't fight me," he whispered. "Don't fight me."

His breathing was deep and heavy, and she realised in horror that she could feel skin on skin. Eyes darting, she sourced her clothes neatly folded on a chair beside the bed. Before she could even think of a way to get at them he had pinned the shoulder closest to him so that she struggled, half covering herself, on her back. He lowered himself across her and bit the soft skin between her neck and collarbone, making her cry out. He gave a muffled moan into her hair and let his weight pin her completely.

"Get off me," she hissed, pushing his chest with the flat of her hands. "Get…off."

He was heavier than she expected. He shifted a little so that her hips were under his, and she grit her teeth – the pain of him pushing against her was almost unbearable. He lifted his torso off her and she aimed a sharp blow at his face with her newly freed elbows. Catching her arm and wrestling with her until he had her wrists pinned, she remembered the look on his face from the top of the stairs in her own home.

"You've wanted this for months, you sick bastard," she breathed. He narrowed his eyes and nodded sarcastically, and bit her neck again. She couldn't completely stifle the scream and he grated his fingernails into the soft skin of her arms, driving himself inside her.

This time she did scream. Jackson let go of her wrists, clasped one hand over her mouth and another under her arm so he gripped her shoulder from behind. His breath shook as he felt the tears run between his fingers, and he broke the skin underneath his nails. Eventually she stopped writhing and became quiet save for the muted sobs, and he tucked his chin against her neck, stifling his moans as best as he could.

Suddenly: "_Oh, Jackson_…"

Despite his shock, and unable to help himself, he let out a deep groan and gripped the bedsheet in his fist. She drew her legs up and breathed his name again. He thrust harder, his breath crackling under the effort, and with a sudden climax he ground his teeth loudly enough for her to hear. When he fell silent, rasping into her hair, Lisa moved again. He lifted his head, gave her a long, hard stare, and then pushed himself away from her.

"…Jackson?" Lisa sat up and gazed across at him uncertainly. He was lying on his back, chest rising and falling with exertion. His expression was cold and emotionless again. Letting her eyes wander, she saw that the skin around the two pale bullet-wound scars was flushed pink.

Taking her chance, Lisa darted for the bathroom, twisted the shower knobs feverishly and scrubbed until her skin was raw. The water burnt her skin, and she shuddered with relief. Taking some clean clothes out of the bag Jackson had prepared for her and left in the other bedroom, she dressed fully, and slept fitfully on the sofa.

oOo

"Rippner, what is she doing in your house?"

"You said all or nothing, Boss. I went for all." Jackson snapped impatiently the next morning. The pulsing ache in his head was like a tight elastic band over his temples. Lisa was sitting on the sofa, panda-eyed and edgy.

"I meant finish the job – remove her from the equation, do you understand what I mean, Rippner?"

Jackson pursed his lips and glared out of the window.

"Shoulda made your point more clearly before, then, Boss." He hung up, suspecting that he was going to pay dearly for his words. He turned his gaze back to Lisa, who was fixated with the floor, and his anger made way for a stronger emotion. He suspected that it was guilt.

Now, he had it all.


	11. Chapter 11

In the weeks that followed, Jackson found that he couldn't be rough with her at all. During the day, he was either out working or he taunted her with patronising comments, reminding her that she may be of use for a job soon. In reality, she was enough for him to close _every_ job – he would walk away from the scene, travel home and find her waiting for him. Granted, she rarely spoke to him except to throw a snide remark back in his face, but he secretly enjoyed being irritated by her. The only thing that he found odd was her tendency to take messages for him during the day.

He made her sleep in the same bed as him so that he could watch her hair and the slow rise and fall of her breathing, but by the morning she was almost always gone. She would usually be awake and flicking dully through the television channels, or sleeping on the sofa. If she were sleeping, he would press his lips to her forehead and leave before she awoke.

Tonight, he glanced nervously around the bus. It was 8pm and the bus was packed, but nobody was paying him any obvious attention. He turned his collar up and pressed his temple against the cool glass, waiting for the throbbing to subside. It didn't, and he started to feel weak and ill. Someone pressed the button for his stop before he did, and he eased himself out of the seat; a couple of passengers risked a glance at his suit as he passed them, but he ignored them and strode off the bus, disappearing into a smaller street as soon as he could. He would have to take the other way home.

He fumbled with the locks and eventually lurched through the door. Locking up behind him, he turned to see Lisa watching him from the kitchen. Avoiding her gaze and gritting his teeth, he shrugged his jacket off and let it fall to the floor. She gasped and disappeared from the walkway. Putting the pain to the back of his mind, he looked down at his shirt and saw an enormous flower of blood to one side of his belly – maybe it was worse than he thought.

In the bathroom, he ripped at the buttons and they made small pinging noises in the sink. Wincing as he peeled the fabric off the wound, he pressed a wet towel to it and used a corner to wipe off the tarry scarlet mess. He sat heavily on the edge of the tub and surveyed the damage, his head spinning horribly. The bullet had glanced through his side, making a small tunnel apparently only a few millimetres under the surface. Whatever he had been shot with, the rounds weren't very big. Relief washed over him and he tipped his head back, which turned out to be a mistake. The tiles slithered and turned upside down, and he slid into the tub, cracking his head on the wall. He shut his eyes to block out the pain, and found it went away very quickly…

oOo

"So what happened, you messed with the wrong people?"

Jackson forced his eyes open and saw the ceiling. Turning his head gingerly, Lisa was standing beside him as he lay on the lounge floor. The wood beneath him was warm; he must have been there a while.

"What?" He groaned and closed his eyes again, nausea seeping through him.

"Get a little out of your depth, _Jack_?" He could almost see the triumphant look on her face, and her tone became more mocking. "Wait, did you catch some girl and she didn't like you?"

He didn't answer.

"Did you try her too, and she shot you? You're pathetic." Lisa grabbed a mug off the coffee table and flung its contents in his face. He choked as the icy water doused him, and half sat up before the nerve endings in his side screamed. Rolling over carefully, he got to his knees.

"I was on a job, it is none of your business, and questions won't get you anywhere." He drawled with his back to her. Pausing, he added: "But no, it was nothing like that… I don't make it a habit."

Lisa was silent for a second and he wondered if she had walked away. Then her voice carried from a little further away.

"Well, I'd have shot you if I could, and I'm glad they did."

Her footsteps left the room, and he sat back on his haunches, running his hands through his hair. It took a moment before he smelt the vaguely pungent scent of disinfectant, and he realised the bullet wound had been cleaned and taped over.

oOo

Jackson hobbled into the kitchen a few minutes later, after hearing the kettle boil several times. Lisa was standing in front of it, arms folded. The little water inside it bubbled and the switch flicked to 'off', and he saw her wait a few seconds before turning it on again.

"You'll break it." He stated, more aggressively than he intended. She ignored him and eventually there was the hiss of an exposed kettle element. Pushing past, he snatched it off the base and set it aside. The soles of his shoes squeaking on the tiles, he stood Lisa against the work-surface and made her look at him.

"Look, I told you not to mess with things you don't understand. You don't need to know what I do or where I go. Right now, you're probably safer here with me."

He waited, letting his words sink in. He saw a glimmer of recognition in her eyes, but she continued her aloof façade.

"Safe?" She nodded sarcastically. "Is that what you call it?"

He moved his hand from her side and ran his thumb along her scar, without taking her eyes off her face. The nerve in his cheek twitched again, and he felt her body go tense. Somewhere, a truck sounded its horn.

"That… was a mistake." His voice shook slightly and she recoiled. He seized her face with both hands and she immediately grabbed for his wrists. "It was definitely a mistake…"

He searched her face for a reply but she only struggled, and ultimately he was forced to let go, mainly because she drove her knuckle into his side. With an agonised yell, he doubled up and she stalked away from him. As he knelt on the floor, the volume on the TV increased until it drowned out all other sound, though he swore he could hear her crying.


	12. Chapter 12

Jackson stared at his bedroom ceiling, dark rings under his eyes. He'd slept fitfully, woken throughout the night by Lisa's pacing. This had done nothing for his efforts to keep her off his mind, and several times he'd had to stop himself from dashing out in his underwear and demanding that she give it a rest. Deciding that he couldn't stay in bed any longer, he slid out from under the duvet and dressed quietly. Slipping into the walkway, he found her with her back to him in the kitchen and he stood barefoot on the cold wood, watching her boil the kettle.

Several minutes passed, as did several thoughts. She flicked the switch a final time. There was a loud snap, and the kettle began to smoke. Turning the appliance off at the wall, Lisa turned around and jumped at the sight of him leaning against the fridge with his arms folded.

"I told you you'd break it."

She looked thrown by the gentleness of his voice, but still mistrustful. She gave the rest of the kitchen a fleeting look, but the rest of the surfaces were bare. She was at a loss now that the kettle was gone. Jackson nodded in the direction of the table and unfolded his arms.

"Sit down."

She sat delicately on the edge of a stool and he took the one opposite her, placing both palms down on the table. He fixed his cool blue eyes on hers and was encouraged by the way she stared steadily back at him. Jackson realised how tired she looked, and wondered if she was thinking the same thing about him. The wall clock ticked a few seconds away, and he swallowed hard, his scar jumping. He wasn't even sure where he was going with this.

"Leese," he started with his usual patronising tone, but thought better of it. Even so, he was unable to stop himself from expressing each word clearly. "Leese, there's a _lot_ you still don't understand."

He pushed an acrylic placemat across the table surface, leaving it in front of her. She ignored it, so he tapped it and pushed it a little further.

"For God's sake, Leese. I know you need something to occupy yourself with while I talk so _pick the damn thing up_."

Stunned at the outburst, and the fact that he was right, Lisa edged her nails underneath the placemat and started to flick the corner. It made a tiny clicking sound on the vinyl tabletop, slightly out of time with the wall clock. He watched her a little, and she lowered her face, apparently very interested in the mat.

"There's a lot you still don't understand," he repeated. "I told you before that I don't lie. I told you that I needed you for a job, and that I don't make a habit…" He faltered and swallowed again, waiting for a reaction.

Lisa continued to flick the corner of the mat, staring at the translucent plastic.

"I think you'll find that I'm as good as my word," he finished.

Lisa hesitated, then gave him a cold stare and slid the placemat back towards him. "So which job?"

Jackson looked taken aback, having not considered that fact that she might ask questions. She pursed her lips and maintained her stare, and eventually he had to look away. She leaned forward and asked again:

"Which job?"

"All of them," he snapped. The atmosphere shifted and she sat back in her seat, confusion written in her frown. He placed his palms on the table again, feeling the aggression mounting. "I needed you for every single job, Leese. I said I might have to steal you and then I knew I had to – I needed to come home and know you were here, with me, and safe."

He waited, but got no reply. He did, however, see her glance briefly in his direction. After a moment's thought, he tried his last card.

"I made a mistake or two along the way, and now I'm just waiting for it to go to shit."

Lisa sat up again, reached out and retrieved the placemat. She held it on its side and ran her nails around the edge, turning the square plastic over and over. Breathing evenly, he studied her until she flung the mat down with a weak slap and stood up.

"You said we'd talk again, too. And we did. I supposed that makes you a good person? Deep down?" The question was tinged with something that he couldn't place, but sounded very close to disappointment. He felt a pang and he turned on the stool as she moved around the table.

"Leese, I'm being honest with you," he said, struggling to hide his desperation. "I need you."

He shifted his hand and she stalled, her fingers still touching the table. He made as if he was going to lay his hand on hers, but shot out and grabbed her wrist at the last moment. She pulled away, but he held fast and stood up, ignoring the twisting sting in his side. Yanking her arm, their bodies clashed and her cupped her face in his hands, his blood pounding in his ears and drowning out the sound of the clock.

"Do you understand, Lisa? I have to have you…"

Without thinking, he pressed his lips hard on hers, running a thumb over her cheekbone. This time, hot shock ran through him and he felt her knees give slightly. He lowered his arms and wrapped them around her body, leaving a trail of fluttering kisses at the edge of her mouth before pressing hungrily into another, deeper kiss. Fully expecting to be kicked or bitten, he felt his stomach leap when she began to kiss him back and he inadvertently pulled apart from her. Searching her face and knowing he was giving everything away, he fought the urge to flinch when she brought her fingers up and smoothed his hair out of his face. Finally, she backed away with a shy smile on her face, her cold fingers wrapped around his wrist and urging him to follow.

Feeling the scarred muscle in his throat spasm, and taking forced, shaking breaths, Jackson followed Lisa into the lounge, lay with her on the sofa and made love to her.


	13. Chapter 13

Lisa wasn't in his arms when he woke up. Rolling onto his back, Jackson let out a croak as the crick in his neck made itself known, and he inhaled deeply. The faint scene of sweat and perfume hung in the air and he closed his eyes again, confident that he was covered from the waist downwards by a cotton throw. After a few minutes the silence started to make him feel uncomfortable and so he sat up carefully and pulled on his underwear and trousers.

When he stood up straight, Lisa was leaning in the walkway with hands behind her back. He tipped his head to one side and exhaled, taking in the way the evening sun gave her a sort of halo through the kitchen window. He started towards her and ran a hand through his hair.

"Leese-"

She swung her right hand from behind her back and pointed the barrel at his chest. He halted jerkily as though she had already shot him, and raised his hands in front of him. Anger pierced him as he recognised the model and his jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, _Jack?_ Didn't think I'd look for a gun while you were out?" She licked her lips. "I turned this place upside down when you were out late – after a while I was pretty sure that this place didn't have anything. I noticed you were missing the kitchen knives."

_Oh, God._ Jackson's heart skipped a beat, and he knew what she'd done.

"I never picked a lock before," she continued. "Took me weeks, but I did it. I couldn't work out why you'd lock a bathroom cupboard. You screwed up, _Jack._"

"I thought you understood what was going on," he snarled. Lisa grinned at him and steadied the gun with her other hand. Slowly, he sank to his knees.

"Looks like you needed me more than I needed you." She gave him a sad smile.

Out on the road, the gunshot reverberated over the tarmac and a dozen birds fled from a spindly-looking tree. A man smoking a cigarette in front of the terraced houses looked up, waited, then began a slow walk in the opposite direction. Not long after, a single car passed the annex, and then the street was still again.

Inside, Jackson gazed at Lisa from where he lay on the floor. She stepped towards him and knelt by his side.

"Looks like that changed, Jackson," she whispered. A loud ring shattered the quiet and she tugged one of Jackson's cells off her waistband, holding it to her ear.

"Yeah, it's done," she replied to the deep, male voice on the other end. "I can see him right here, he's not moving." She put a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "Yeah… it's definitely over."

oOo

Suited men surrounded Jackson's employer when he arrived at the annex, all with one hand on their respective guns. As arranged, he knocked twice on the door, but got no reply. His breath misted slightly in the darkness, and he nodded at his nearest Dog.

The Dog set to work with his lock-breaker. It took several minutes to do the job effectively and quietly, but soon a pile of metal keyholes and catches lay on one side of the doorway. Discarding the heavy tool, the Dog entered to building first.

The only light inside came from a room further away. Two men cleared the room, and the employer stepped into the dim lounge before hitting the light switch. The room burst into yellow light, but there was still no sign of either Jackson or Lisa.

"Clear the rooms."

The men spread out and had every room checked within thirty seconds. By this point, the employer's face was turning beet-red and he was snapping at his team.

"You're sure they're gone?" Skimming the room with a glance, he noticed a gouge in the wooden flooring. Driven deep into the pine was a fairly intact bullet, surrounded by nothing more than wood-chips. To his fury, he noted that there was no blood; there was no sign of a struggle, and most importantly no sign of Jackson's lifeless body.

A siren pealed somewhere nearby and he growled, clenching his fists. "Get out of here! Get the message out, and don't take no for an answer."

They left the building less than ten minutes before they arrived. When the police got to the scene, they found the door on its hinges and an empty property with no record of the tenant.

oOo

On the plane, Jackson and Lisa stared out of the window. They hadn't said a word to each other since leaving the annex, but now Lisa turned away from the view and found herself caught in his gaze. He smiled slightly and she closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. A stewardess dipped her smiling face into their row.

"Everything ok, Honey?"

"She's just had a really rough day," he assured her with a winning smile. The stewardess nodded and left them.

As the plane hit some turbulence, Jackson trailed his fingernails over the back of her hand and clamped his fingers around her wrist. He felt her relax under his grip, and she turned her head away again. Leaving her to her thoughts, Jackson leant back and sighed quietly.

_It's over. I finished the job, and I'm pretty sure it's personal now._


End file.
